More Like Lydia
by IrisStars
Summary: After Mexico, Stiles can't stop thinking that Malia would have left Lydia behind without so much as a second thought. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much until he realizes that he's been trying to turn Malia into someone she's not. He wants Malia to be more like... Well... Lydia. He realizes that no matter what he does, he'll always want Lydia. Really fluffy at the end!


**Hello! This is my first Stydia fic and I'm really excited. Wrote this in just a few hours or so because I just felt some inspiration. Sorry for any mistakes I've made! **

_More Like Lydia_

Ever since Malia wanted to leave Lydia behind during their trip to Mexico, Stiles couldn't stop thinking about it.

He knew Malia wasn't used to all this "human-emotional-I-can't-do-anything-stuff" as she liked to call it, and he always had to correct her about everything she did. He felt bad because it wasn't even her fault. She had been a coyote for the majority of her life and she didn't think the same way everyone else did.

Stiles was lying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling on a Friday night. Why? Because there wasn't anything evil happening and he was trying so hard to finally get _one _good night's sleep. Yet here he was, lying awake and thinking about why it felt so strange to be with Malia, like something was holding him back too much. Did it make him a bad person, wanting to change her so much?

Malia just needed to understand. The human world was obviously completely different from the animal world, and in order for him to be with her, she'd have to learn how to be more like a human. More like a compassionate human being. More like a human with morals. More like…

_Lydia._

Stiles stiffened. Did he really just think that? No, of course not. He was with Malia. He couldn't be thinking about Lydia. Not anymore. She didn't feel anything towards him. They were just friends. They were partners in crime. He had loved her for a very long time and she barely took any notice to him until their lives were thrown together by the supernatural. She was Allison's best friend, so obviously she had to stay. But now Allison wasn't… She wasn't there anymore. He and Lydia were still the same, though. They were friends. Just friends.

Stiles groaned inwardly. He thought he had gotten over Lydia. Sure, he had claimed he wanted to stretch his 10-year plan to 15, but it was a joke – mostly. Malia understood what he was going through when the whole Nogitsune thing happened. She didn't think of him like he was crazy, besides the fact that they were in Eichen House together. Maybe that wasn't such a good example. She stood by him after that, though. She protected him and told him she'd never leave him.

Lydia wouldn't have left him either. She was his anchor. Everybody knew that. Ever since the bathtub encounter, and since his head was invaded, she was declared his anchor, and he was undoubtedly hers.

What kind of relationship would Stiles have with Malia if he changed her so much to the point where she had no resemblance to her former self? It would make him terrible. It would be unhealthy for the relationship. It wouldn't be _right_. How could he ask her to change herself completely just because he wanted her to?

He sighed. What would his mom tell him to do? She was the most compassionate, loving person he had ever known. She would know what to do. She would know what was right for him. Then again, she did say she liked the way Lydia "conquered the room as she walked right in" back in elementary school.

Would Malia understand? Would she rip his throat out and watch him slowly die? Would she run away into the woods and refuse to ever see him again?

He was going to tell her. He was going to do what was right. It was fair to her.

He rolled onto his back and finally drifted to sleep.

The next morning, he went straight to Malia's house to sort things out. He couldn't take it any longer. It was what was best for the both of them.

She threw open the door and he noticed she was completely dressed with her hair wildly flowing by her shoulders, a giant grin planted on her face. When she saw him, she threw her arms around him. He smiled and squeezed her tightly, but not like usual.

She frowned and drew back, giving him a questioning look.

"Stiles, what's going on? Your heart is beating like crazy."

He drew in a big breath. "I just need to talk to you for a minute. It's important."

She raised an eyebrow, and motioned for him to follow her in. She flopped onto the couch, and as soon as he sat down, she threw her legs on top of his lap.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I was just thinking about some things last night… I couldn't get to sleep and I-"

"You should have called me! I would have shown up at your window last night!"

Stiles repositioned himself, thinking of the best way to explain things without her wanting to rip his head off with her teeth. He was planning to be as gentle as possible, knowing how fiercely angry she could get.

"Well, that's my point. I've been thinking about our relationship… And I think… I'm not exactly the right person for you."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, all this time I've been talking about changing you. Changing your behavior into something less… animalistic. Making you more human. Telling you you're wrong and telling you what you should be doing all the time. I realized it wasn't fair to you. I realized that I was changing you. Who am I if I change who you are? It's not good for the both of us."

She nodded slowly.

"I don't want you to change for me. I want you to be who you are. You're part of Scott's pack now, and he should be the one telling you pack things, and you should be doing them _because you want to_, not because it's going to make me happy. I wanted you to be more like…" he trailed off. He couldn't mention Lydia. That would just make things worse.

"More like what?" she muttered. She removed her legs and sat up, crossing them along with her arms. She looked at him expectantly.

"More like… Not you." Okay, it was half a lie, but it was the best he could do, given the circumstances. He hoped she bought it.

"I get it." Malia looked down at the floor, letting her hands drop to her lap, not wanting to meet his sad gaze. "So you want to break up with me?" she asked, voice small.

He hesitated. He felt terrible.

"I do… But it's only because I think you and I would be better as friends. It's better for you. Even for you to adapt, you know. You won't have to worry about me. You can figure things out for yourself. Do what you want to do."

She stared at him for a while before replying. "Okay. That's fine with me."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "Are you… angry?"

"Yeah, a bit, but I understand what you mean. I can barely survive in school, trying to be normal like the rest of you are and it's just so hard. Everyone is way ahead of me. You tell me to do things that I'm not used to and it drives me crazy because I don't understand anything. It's not like being a coyote, where I can prey on things and not have to worry about their 'feelings.'" She made air quotes, amusing him.

Stiles smiled in relief. He felt his shoulders relax, and he noticed Malia's shoulders slouch too, as opposed to holding them in a defensive position, ready to pounce.

He reached over and engulfed her in a hug. She returned it, rubbing his back comfortingly.

"Now," she said, getting up, "can you help me with this stupid history thing? I really don't know anything about these stupid presidents and I don't want to fail this class."

Throughout the next two weeks, things felt normal.

There was only one thing that seemed a bit different. Stiles felt like there was a magnetic pull dragging him towards Lydia. More so than before. It was an uncontrollable urge to be around her. If she wasn't around, he was trying to find her. If she was walking right next to him, he'd reach over and place his fingertips on her forearm, guiding her to match strides with him.

It was Friday night, and Stiles was yet again lying in bed, wide-awake. He listened to the rain this time, thinking about the way Lydia's hair bounced when she walked, the way she pursed her lips when she was thinking, the way she looked at him with her sparkling green eyes. He wanted to be with her all the time.

He grunted and glared at the ceiling. What was wrong with him? He had liked her so long. Why couldn't he _stay_ with _someone else_?

Well, it's not like he actually _told her_ that he felt this way about her.

Oh _no, _he would do no such thing. Think of the humiliation.

He hopped out of bed, grabbing his car keys and phone. He didn't even bother to put on shoes, stepping out into the rain and into his jeep.

When he stepped onto Lydia's porch, butterflies roamed his stomach. He dialed her number slowly, the anxiety making his fingers clumsily poke at the screen much too hard to be necessary.

"Hello?" she answered groggily.

"Hey Lyds. Is your mom home?"

"Stiles. You called me at 3 am to ask me if my mom is home? What the hell is wrong with you? People are trying to sleep!" She was being gentle, her tone worried.

"Is she home or can I ring the doorbell? Am I going to get in trouble for being here so late? I mean – early?"

"Wh-What? Are you at my house?" she asked. Her voice was painted with confusion.

"Yeah," he replied, voice nonchalant.

There was a long pause before he heard her sigh. "Wait a minute. I'm going downstairs."

She hung up, and he started to pace right by her front door.

When she opened the door, she gasped. She was in a pink robe and pink slippers, with her hair tied in a messy bun. "Stiles! You're soaked! Where are your shoes? What are you doing? Ugh, get in here!"

Lydia grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, not giving him time to answer.

"Gosh, you're freezing. Wait here. I'll get a towel."

She disappeared and returned with a white, fluffy towel and wrapped it around him, rubbing his arms to keep him warm.

"I need to talk to you," Stiles said softly.

"What's going on? Here, let's sit down. Did something happen? Are you okay? Is Malia… Is Scott okay? Deaton?" She rambled, guiding him into the living room and practically pushing him onto the couch to sit. He landed with a loud thump, and she sat next to him, curling her legs under herself.

"They're fine… Everyone's fine… I just needed to talk to you."

"Well, I'm here." She placed her hand on his face, caressing it softly.

"I broke up with Malia."

Lydia's face was unreadable. He didn't know what she thought at all. It didn't look happy, but it certainly didn't look sad either.

"Okay," she said carefully, not really understanding. "Why?"

"I was awake in bed and I just started to think. Malia wanted to leave you behind and… It didn't sit too well with me. I started thinking of what I would do if I ever had to leave you behind, or watch you get electrocuted like Kira did with Scott. I said it before, and I'll say it again… I would go out of my freaking mind if I ever lost you."

She looked almost pained to hear him say it, but he continued anyway, tucking a loose lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.

"I've been trying to teach Malia what it's like to be human. I was trying to teach her about morals and things like that and I just wanted her to be someone else… I wanted her to be… Well… _you_."

Lydia laced her fingers through his, and gave him the same smile she gave him during the night with the red string. The fateful red string. Their strong emotional tether.

"Through all the changes, I was asking her to be someone she wasn't. I wanted her to act like you act. I wanted her to be my partner in crime. I wanted her to have that place and I realized," he breathed, "that the space was already filled. You are already my partner in crime. You're my anchor. You're already the one I want. You're the one I've wished for forever. You're the one I would never leave behind. You're the one I could never replace. _You're the one for me. _Gosh, Lyds, I've been in love with you since the third grade!"

She sniffed, and he realized she was crying. Tears were streaming down her face and she squeezed his hand tightly.

"You don't have to say anything now," he started, "but I just wanted you to know. I can't keep it in any longer. You might not have any feelings like that for me, but I have them for you and I wanted you to know, considering I never actually said the words to you."

"Stiles," she forced out through tears, "you have no idea how long I've wanted you to say that."

His eyes lit up, and he grinned. She smiled and pulled him towards her, planting her lips on his just like she did during his panic attack. This time, it wasn't for him to hold his breath. This time, it was because she felt so strongly for him and she wanted him to know it. The kiss was slow. They took their time to show each other just how long they've wanted to be together. Her fingers threaded themselves through his hair, and he grabbed her waist, pulling her closer. Her shirt began to get damp from the rainwater seeping through the towel.

When the kiss ended, Lydia pressed their foreheads together, holding his face in her hands gently. Everything in that moment was so delicate, so perfect.

"What took you so long?" she whispered, eyes closed. He took her hands in both of his, looking at her stunning green eyes.

"I had a ten-year plan."

**Thank you for reading! (:**


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